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About Nijmegen

Pissed me off once, though. Some stunad stiffed a girl, ran out laughin’. I’m like, “Buddy, you don’t fuck with family!” Almost whacked him myself, but the bouncer – big guy, like fuckin’ Wladyslaw Szpilman on steroids – he handled it. Tossed him out like trash. Good riddance. Surprised me too, how tight-knit it is. Like a crew. They got each other’s backs. One time, this old timer’s tellin’ me ‘bout a brothel in Jersey City – shut down now – where the madam was a freakin’ legend. Cooked pasta for the girls every Sunday. Gabagool, sausage, the works! Kept ‘em fed, kept ‘em loyal. Ain’t that somethin’?

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But then, as I’m walking away, I trip over a stray dog. Seriously, where did that pup come from? I’m on the ground, cheese flying everywhere. I’m like, “Great, just great.” The dog looks at me like, “What’s your problem?” I’m just sitting there, covered in cheese, thinking, “This is NOT how I pictured my day.”

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